


Lights

by unicornduke



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornduke/pseuds/unicornduke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lifetime of breaks, strains and other injuries had led to this: Clint curled up on the couch, trying to get some kind of relief for the horrible achiness in his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be for Asexuality Awareness Week. You can see how well that worked. But this is just fluffiness and the ace stuff is kinda on the down low. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

_You shine it when I’m alone_

 

Natasha was making hot cocoa and soup in the main kitchen when Tony wandered in.

 

The first names were relatively new, the team beginning to come together outside of battle and the misdirections surrounding Coulson’s death. Once tempers had cooled, they all had agreed Fury hiding Coulson ‘s recovery from most of them had kept the WSC off their backs. It had kept them out of SHIELD’s chain of command and therefore the Council’s. Their final attempt at gaining control over the Avengers had fizzled out two months ago under the terrifying combined efforts of Tony and Fury.

 

“Is that for me?” Tony asked, leaning over and sniffing at the soup.

 

Natasha gently pushed his face away. “It’s for Clint,” she said, stirring the soup one last time.

 

“Are you bringing him food in bed? I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, Agent Romanov,” Tony said as he pulled out his phone and began tapping on it in quick, efficient motions.

 

“I’m not,” Natasha said, injecting a purr into her voice, “He’s not feeling well.”

 

Stepping into her way, Tony stared her down, “Are you two fucking? For the life of me and JARVIS, I can’t figure it out. I mean, that would be really hot.”

 

Natasha stepped around him with ease. “Clint doesn’t fuck anyone,” she said, hoping Tony would leave it alone. They might be on a familiar and first name basis but she wouldn’t hesitate to protect her private life in an instant. Or Clint’s. Or Coulson’s for that matter.

 

She ladled the soup out and poured the hot cocoa into Clint’s favorite mug, leaving the remainder of both cooling on the stove. Balancing the mug, bowl and a pack of crackers, Natasha walked into the living room, Tony trailing after her.

 

Clint was curled up on the couch, heating pads laying over his legs and blankets draped over him. He was miserable looking, pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. The television was muted, playing some kind of random cooking show. Beyond Clint, the rain pounded steadily on the big windows, obscuring the view of the city.

 

Behind her, Tony made a noise of comprehension before striding away.

 

Natasha refrained from rolling her eyes. Geniuses, really.

 

~~

 

The murmur of his voice brought Clint up from the miserable half doze he was in and he opened his eyes to see Natasha standing above him.

 

“Come on and sit up,” she said, “I brought soup and cocoa.”

 

With a sigh, Clint pushed himself up, wincing at the pain that throbbed through his knees and hips. It was just his luck that the air pressure changed as he was getting back from leading a team of junior agents through a relatively easy week long assignment. So he had been dirty and tired and then it started raining as he walked out of HQ. By the time he had gotten back to the Tower, he was limping, soaked and miserable. A lifetime of breaks, strains and other injuries had led to this: Clint curled up on the couch, trying to get some kind of relief for the horrible achiness in his body.

 

He would say it felt like they were on fire, but he’d been on fire before and it was slightly different. At least burns were surface damage and could be soothed. Joint pain? Nothing really helped except a combination of anti-inflammatories and opiates. The first took time to kick in and required food, which never turned out well and the second were addictive. Not anything Clint wanted to get hooked on.

 

So he dealt, spending the bad days in his room or somewhere comfortable, preferably with Natasha or Phil around and a lot of heating pads.

 

“Clint.”

 

He opened his eyes again, to find Natasha had moved to sit on the couch next to him and was waving the soup under his nose. She was dressed in comfy clothes, apparently having changed at some point between finding Clint on the couch and coming back with food.

 

“Eat this and then take these,” She said, giving him the soup and dropping the bottle of painkillers in his hand.

 

It was easier to let her baby him, feeding him and helping him than it was to prove he could handle himself. At this point, they were a team, she and him, and they’d seen each other bleeding and sick and terrified. A little misery wouldn’t matter.

 

Setting the bottle on his knee, Clint sipped slowly at the soup, careful not to upset his stomach more than he had to, the headache feeling like a band of pressure in his head. Beside him, Natasha fussed with the blankets, rearranging them until they were wrapped more snugly around him. Grabbing her phone, she texted something and whatever show was on television changed to something with dancing.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Clint muttered halfheartedly, fumbling at the pill bottle. He was only protesting because he felt like he should. Normally Natasha was off doing things like sparring or talking to Pepper, or something like that. Efficient, deadly things.

 

“I doubt it, Clint,” Phil’s voice echoed into the room as Natasha removed the bottle and soup bowl from his hands, opened the bottle, and gave him the painkillers and hot chocolate. He took them obediently, knowing Natasha would sit and stare at him until he took them, no matter how reluctant he was.

 

Instead of answering, Clint sipped at the hot chocolate, sighing at the burst of creamy flavor. Natasha was really good at making it and he hunched down more on the couch, moving gingerly. With a final sigh, she shifted closer and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, settling him close into her side.

 

She was warm, and safe, and Clint cradled the warm mug to his chest, enjoying the contact as much as he could. While they cuddled sometimes, it was a private thing, between Phil and Natasha and him. He yawned and sipped the hot chocolate again as the black clad dancers moved across the screen.

 

Things went fuzzy for a while and he drifted in and out of sleep.

 

Clint opened his eyes to see Phil, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, pluck the mug from Clint’s hands. “You don’t want to spill it,” he said, sitting down on Clint’s other side.

 

“Whatever,” Clint said, curling backwards into the couch. The heating pads were cold against his legs and he fumbled for the controls to turn them on again.

 

“Hang on,” Natasha said, stilling his hands. Clint watched as Tony handed Natasha a blanket, moving to hover over the side of the couch. At some point, Steve, Bruce and Pepper had also appeared in the living room and were scattered around.

 

“The easiest way is if you lay out,” Natasha said, holding the blanket up. Now that he was looking, Clint saw the cord hanging off it.

 

“What’s,” The roughness of his voice surprised him and Clint cleared his throat, “What’s that?”

 

“It’s a super heating pad,” Tony said, “And I was making it for Cap since cold tends to bother him.” He went on, ignoring the glare Steve was shooting him, “I don’t think he’ll mind you borrowing it for a bit and you can tell me how it works. Go on, try it.”

 

“Right,” Clint said, not moving yet. It was going to hurt more to move right now, even with the anti-inflammatories he took earlier.

 

“Come on, lean back,” Phil said, rubbing Clint’s shoulder. “The sooner you settle in again, the better it’ll feel.”

 

Natasha moved around next to him, handing the blanket to Phil before leaning back against the arm of the couch. She swung her legs out and stretched them out, one folded near Clint’s back and the other hanging off the edge of the couch.

 

“Lean back against me,” she said, beckoning him, “and then Phil can have your legs.”

 

“Ooooh, kinky,” Tony said, waggling his eyebrows at them, “Is this a threesome?”

 

Clint ignored him and began uncurling. It hurt. At some point in the last hour, his muscles had stiffened up, which was just making everything hurt more. His knees and shins were throbbing and he hissed. Natasha grabbed his arms and shifted him closer, taking some of the strain off his legs.

 

Phil moved around quickly, plugging the blanket into the outlet built into the floor before easing Clint’s legs over his lap. Clint almost whined at the stretch and pull, but quickly cut himself off.

 

As Clint leaned back against Natasha, he heard Phil say, “I believe you need to be having sex in a threesome and that isn’t something that will be happening.”

 

Mouth quirked up on one side, Phil spread the warmed blanket over Clint’s legs. Phil’s sense of humor ranged from deadpan to macabre and he loved confusing people. Tony sputtered behind them and Clint finally relaxed fully against Natasha as she looped her arms around Clint and relaxed into her backrest, forcing Clint to relax too. He ignored the stares and glances the others were giving them and tried to ignore the aches. Phil was rubbing Clint’s knees, small gentle movements that helped soothe the hurt. The heating blanket was incredibly warm and Clint finally snuggled back against Natasha.

 

He closed his eyes, shutting out the rest of the room and the tension in his head released a bit. Natasha was warm and solid along his back, her thumb rubbing back and forth across his chest. Phil cradled his aching legs in warm hands. And his team was around them, relaxed and watching their backs.

 

There was nowhere else he would rather be.

 

 


End file.
